A Match Made In Congress
by Nicoletta Katherine
Summary: Jamie has never really been normal. After all, her dad is a US Senator. But now he's running for Vice President and things are getting even more complicated. And the Presidential Candidate's son isn't helping matters... Please read better summary inside!
1. Only The Beginning

**Jamie Carey has never known the meaning of normal. At age eight she was a National Pageant winner and child model. At age eleven she was a National Dance Champion. Her father has been in politics for as long as she can remember, and became Senator of Vermont when she was twelve. He's been in Office ever since. Now, he's running for Vice President with fellow Vermont Senator and things are getting even more chaotic. They've won the Democratic Nomination, so everything is full-speed-ahead from now on. Jamie is having a hard enough time dealing with the fact she has to tone down her hot-model image, never mind possibly becoming the daughter of a vice-president! But there's someone else with almost the same exact issues. Oliver is the son of the Presidential nominee, and has his sights set on her. However, she wants nothing to do with his cocky-arrogant type of personality. They've known each other since their dads became Senators, but still resent one another with a passion… or so they think. What will happen along the campaign trail? Will sparks fly or fizzle out? And what's with all the political fanatics talking about their 'relationship' on national television?**

…

**Chapter One: Only The Beginning**

There are good things and bad things about having your Dad run for vice-president of the United States.

Some good things: You get free stuff… _a lot_. And, when your Mom is a retired supermodel and owner of a cosmetics line, you get even more free stuff.

The rest are all annoying, partly back-breaking and exhausting things: The press conferences, photo shoots (especially since I'm already in the modeling business), election trails and parades. It can really wear a girl down.

Right now, it's the big campaigns. We finally made it. My Dad and Mr. Buchanan are the Democratic candidates. Which means, this August isn't going to be much fun as it will be… torture? Especially since I'm sharing hotel rooms with my brothers. Yep, that's right _plural_. I'm the only daughter—and youngest—out of four kids.

There's the oldest, at twenty, Adam. He's stuck with us until his junior year in college starts up. Then there are the twins, Derek and David. They both just turned eighteen and are going into college. Needless to say they're obnoxiously excited about it. And they celebrate with the presidential candidate's son, Oliver.

Now, when someone says Oliver, normally a girl would think: tall, thin, geeky, computer nerd with bad acne. _Think again._ This Oliver—and his older brother, Liam (who's twenty one)—seem to be the two exceptions to their terribly nerdy names. But you have to trust me when I say… they're completely gorgeous. Of course, being a model and a seventeen year old girl trying desperately to hold onto my dignity, I will _never_ admit that aloud. Plus, he and his brother are both cocky arrogant assholes most of the time. And I've had to spend the whole spring and this past summer campaigning on the road with them… However, this is just the beginning to our 'fun' together.

"Okay, darling, all set?" My Mom asked, stepping into my brothers and my suite. I was decked out in the usual sweet-wholesome-hometown-girl attire (don't forget the fact that I'm born and raised in Vermont). My outfit consisted of a navy blue dress shirt under a white cardigan with a blue pencil skirt and white closed-toe patent leather heels (three inches at the most). So you could say that, being a model for Vogue and Covergirl, I was literally out of my element with all this goody-two-shoes crap.

I peered out the window and already saw an ocean of red, white and blue clothing and posters, signs and blinking objects. It was evening and we were going to be broadcast over every nightly news station—just like the republican candidates—and then hosting a beginning-of-the-big-campaign-ball-sort-of-thing. Obviously, I will be changing out of this stupid cardigan for that. I just hope I can get through this without having a mental break down.

"Yeah," I finally answer my Mom and walk with her—the twins and Adam trailing slightly behind us—toward the elevators of the gorgeous hotel. Six security personnel were already flanking us, with three on either side.

The walk was silent… and then we reached the lobby. And boy was it anything _but_. I mean, sure, I'm a politician's daughter. I'm used to the screaming crowds and obsessed political freaks. But this was the big time.

There were chanting, "Buchanan and Carey!" In a sing-songy tune outside the glass doors of the hotel. The sound was already deafening because the doors were propped open. I winced as we pushed our way through and towards the stage, on the green in Burlington, next to the fountain. They wanted to hold the celebration here in Burlington because Mr. Phillips is also a senator of Vermont. He and my Dad are absolute best friends.

Once there I saw Dad. He was talking with Mr. Buchanan—or Tom as we call him, like always. The Buchanan family was standing behind their Dad/Husband. I caught Oliver's ink-blue eyes and he winked. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, for fear of a pap catching it on camera. I simply looked away and mumbled some choice words in Italian. (My Mom is full Italian, so she taught me how to speak it with her and her parents).

"Kendra! Oh it's so good to see you again!" My Mom exclaimed, embracing Mr. Phillip's wife. They both looked between the sets of off-spring, expecting us to react the same way to each other. So, my brothers, naturally, did that half-hug-half-hand-shake thing that guys do. I simply stood there, looking awkward.

"Hey, Jamie," Oliver smiled that cocky, arrogant, I-can-get-any-girl-I-want smile. He stepped forward and before I could protest, slipped his arms around my tiny waist and hugged me. I squeezed back a little, hearing the popping of cameras going off in some bushes nearby. _Stupid paps…_

"Hi, _Ollie_," I deliberately used that nickname that he hates so much. But all he did was whisper back into _my_ ear, "You can call me that anytime."

We pulled away and everyone was busy chattering. The twins and Adam were conversing with Liam. So, I was left to mingle behind the stage with Oliver.

He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "You're looking very patriotic today." His eyes grazed over me and I knew they were doing anything but simply examining my outfit.

But because of the cameras I couldn't scowl back at him. I had to keep the smile plastered on my face as I said, "You're lucky these cameras are on us right now."

"I know," he said. "But don't worry. There _will_ be a time where you're alone with me." His grin made me nervous, just a bit. I know what he wants. It's been obvious since the day I met him. After all, every other girl is out for his fame and money. I'm the only girl that _doesn't_ want him. That's _why_ he likes me so much. He likes the chase, he said once.

"So, I guess we'll be spending a lot more time with each other," he commented, leaning against the back of the stage and casually sliding his hands in his pockets. I noticed he was; well, not as patriotic as me. And I envied him, in his plain navy blue dress shirt and black pants.

I crossed my arms and leaned on one hip—careful to keep a slight smile on for the paps lurking in the bushes. "I guess so."

"I take it your Mom didn't tell you about the photo-op yet?" He asked. My light blue (very Sicilian) eyes immediately flicked up to his. They widened even more—which makes them look pretty big since they're already the size of chestnuts—as I realized she never mentioned it.

"What photo-op?" I growled with my smile growing dimmer.

He chuckled a little. "Me… you… a very patriotic background… think the title: The Royal Couple of America." But trust me, I would have rather had Prince William or Harry taking pictures with me to be posted on every magazine in newsstands across America. _Not_ the cockiest guy I'd ever met. Because, sure, he's a mega-hottie. I won't deny he's delicious. Six pack? Ink-blue eyes? Dark hair and lightly tanned skin? He's even been on an Abercrombie & Fitch bag before. His looks aren't the problem. It's the rumors, gossip and fandom that come with it.

"You're kidding me, right?" I can't help but laugh a little. "With _you_? Well you're certainly no Prince William. And I'm not Kate."

He laughed playfully, throwing a teasing smile my way. "No. You're right. We're not… We're better…. And we're American."

I rolled my eyes, finally not afraid because I could sense the camera lenses off of me for once. Although, the eye-roll was so quick I don't think a pap could have caught it on film.

"Oh come on, Jamie," he said, "This could be the difference between our Dads winning and losing."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you know how many times I've been told that?"

"Yes, because I've been told the same amount of times… and _I_ choose to make the best of it." I wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

But before I could even say another word the announcer—the governor of Vermont accompanied by the mayor of Burlington—announced us.

"I give you, your democratic candidates for the two-thousand and twelve election! Mr. Thomas Buchanan and Mr. Gino Carey!" Oh yeah, my Dad's pretty much the only Italian politician known to the American government right now.

"Come on, pretty girl," Oliver teased me, grabbing my hand. I tried to pull away as our families walked up the back stairs onto the stage, but his grip was too strong. I should have known that six-pack wasn't just for show. "Show the press what they want to see," he whispered through his very own version of a fake son-of-a-politician smile.

So, I let him hold my hand and lead me onto the stage, where we stood amongst the other family members. Our Dads gave acceptance speeches. But I think most of the magazines were focused on the fact that Oliver and I were holding hands.

After the speeches and applause the red, white and blue balloons dropped from the netting on the overhang of the stage and music played. They were playing Jay Sean's song, _2012._ And all I could think was…

"Corny."

But it wasn't me that said it. It was Oliver. It scared me, how well he finished my thought. But he didn't even realize he'd done it.

My face nearly turned red as my Dad and Oliver's started to dance. Soon everyone in the crowd and on-stage alike were dancing—even my Dad's stuffy manager, Susan was dancing with Phillip's manager, Garret. Oliver pulled me against him and started to dance. Everyone in the audience did that collective, "Awww!"

"How about a kiss for the crowd?" He mumbled into my ear as we danced.

A balloon hit me square on the head—and probably ruined my perfectly straightened brown hair—as I hissed back, "how about if you want to keep your ability to have children in the future you stay away from my lips?"

He laughed, "Ah, touché… but don't worry, beautiful, I'll catch you off guard one of these days."

"Yeah. Right."

After everything was done and over with we headed back to the hotel. I was stuck walking over with him, since we're in the same hotel. His hand was still plastered to mine. I couldn't work my fingers free. And I was getting aggravated.

They're on the same floor. So, when we got off the elevator they went to left and we went to the right. Oliver wouldn't leave without giving me another hug. I know it was simply because he likes touching me in general… and he likes our parents to think we're involved with each other because then his parents shower him with gifts for choosing such a nice girl like me (let's just say he's had his fair share of… whores).

"Your gown for tomorrow is on the door, sweetie," my mom told me. I rushed into my room in the suite and shut the door, seeing something navy blue (what a surprise).

I pulled it out from the plastic wrap (there was about ten layers of the stuff) and laid it out on my bed.

It was absolutely gorgeous. I have to remember to call Sherri and thank her… _a lot_. Sherri Hill is a _genius!_ I told her I didn't want it to be too conservative. But then my Mom had a fit. So, Sherri said she could fix it up to fit both our needs.

Boy, am I going to trust her with my wedding dress someday.

It was a rich, luxurious lycra fabric. It was a-line and had off-the-shoulder sleeves. It was absolutely beautiful. I loved it.

"Oh my god!" I gasped. My Mom stood in the doorway smiling. "It's gorgeous!"

She stared at me for a long time before coming in and closing the door. As I was hanging the dress on my closet door without the wrapping she plopped down on my bed.

"So… taking a liking to, Oliver, huh?"

I turned around—a little too fast—at her comment. She raised her eyebrows. I blinked and thought for a long time before blurting out, "He grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go."

"You know, it's okay for you to like him."

"I don't."

She sighed as I walked in the bathroom and changed. I left the door open. So, she shouted as I changed into my camisole and shorts.

"Well he's a nice boy, Jamie. I approve of him. I know he's a year and a half older but I think that's fine. Your father is four years older than me."

I let out a noise that I usually make when I'm completely fed-up with a situation. She heard the noise as I was stomping back into the room and rolled her eyes as I entered.

"How many times do I have to explain this to you and Dad?" I stopped in the middle of the room and crossed my arms, leaning on one hip. "I'll look cute and act like I like him for the press. I have no problem with that. But if he ever tries anything more than holding my hand he's getting slapped."

She continued her rant, though. "But we know you don't do anything just for us without there being something else… come on, James you can tell me. I'm your Mom. You can tell me this stuff. I won't tease you like the boys would." As I took out my contacts and slipped on my glasses she almost gave me a heart attack, asking, "Have you ever kissed him—."

"No!" I said it, admittedly, a little too loud. But I quickly dropped my voice down, pulling my hair out from its half-up position. I let it fall down my back and chest. The brown curls and waves began to come out again. So much for my flat iron. I need my stylists…

"Do you want to—."

"No," I said flatly and evenly like a true politician's daughter.

She frowned. "Don't you use that politician's tone with me like your father, young lady." She said it playfully, though. "I can't stand when you and the boys do that."

I batted my eyelashes. "It's an inherited trait."

She sighed. "Alright, I won't bug you about it anymore… get some good sleep, honey. It's a long day tomorrow. We won't be getting back here until midnight and then we're leaving for Augusta."

"Maine?" I asked, slipping into bed.

She laughed lightly and sarcastically said, "No, Greece. Of course, Maine, James." She kissed my forehead and flounced out the door.

I heard my brothers in the kitchen, searching for a morsel of food before I turned out my lights and totally blacked out.


	2. The Gala And Other Awkward Moments

"Jamie!" My name was being shouted through the suite at ten o clock in the morning… and I was in no mood. I'd gone through a night of period cramps because we don't have any good enough pain killers around here. Tylenol doesn't work on me. I need Midol or Pamprin.

Needless to say I was cranky. And the boys didn't know what hit them… until they looked on the ground and saw that it was a pillow I'd thrown straight at their heads.

"What?" I couldn't have been crankier. And this wasn't the day for me to be all bi-polar and PMS-y.

They all raised their eyebrows the same way Mom, Dad and I do. I guess it's a family thing. "Wow. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Derek commented.

Adam chuckled as I walked across the room to where Mom was having fun cooking eggs and bacon and all that great breakfast stuff. "Who lit the fuse on _your_ tampon?"

I threw him the evil eye as Dad walked out from the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. "I don't want to hear that!" He covered his ears and kissed Mom on the cheek.

"Morning," she said. I realized everyone was still in their robes and boxers. I guess we were allowed to sleep in because we had a night of partying ahead of us. Not even my Dad's manager was here bugging us yet.

So, I plopped down on a stool in the breakfast nook. And totally saw the next conversation coming…

"So Jam," Adam began, "Will I see you and Oliver dancing tonight?"

I gave him my best early morning glare. He laughed. I shot back, "If I am it's against my will. It's always against my will… he grabbed my hand last night and suddenly he turned into the Hulk."

Derek and Dave laughed in unison. "The kid is pretty jacked." I couldn't believe their ability to say things at the same time.

"Yeah, James, I don't know why you don't like him." Adam sat down beside me. I rolled my eyes as he continued. My parents were smiling in the background. "I mean, he's attractive… his Dad is gonna be president… he's going to Yale for pre-med next year and he'll be filthy rich. How can you not wanna date that?" He paused for a moment because he shoved a piece of scrambled eggs down his throat. "How could you not want to _marry that?"_

I nearly choked mid-sip on my orange juice and slammed the glass back down. The look on my face must have been priceless… because even my parents laughed. Yep, legit _laugh-age_.

"I can think of a few reasons," I said. "First of all he's cocky and arrogant. Second of all, once he goes off to college he's gonna meet college girls and do god knows what with them. Third of all, he's annoying. And finally, I'm not going to turn it into some media extravaganza."

Adam whistled. "Woah… well you've never straight up said you don't like him so…"

I gave him a look as my Dad sat down across from me. The twins and my Mom took a seat, too. "Well, honey, it's very helpful to the campaign. I mean, you two have single-handedly made our percentages rise ten percent. That's a lot for two teenagers to influence. You guys keep holding hands and we're definitely going to win this election."

I sighed as my Mom said, "It's true… and I've even heard people throwing around the idea of a white house wedding someday…"

At this point was ten seconds from covering my ears and screaming at the top of my lungs. But I held strong. "You're kidding me, right? Seriously? People are pathetic."

I thought about it for a second and added, "by the way… Oliver mentioned something about a photo-op?"

Her head perked up with my Dad's they gave each other a slightly guilty look. "Well," she said slowly, "People Magazine and LIFE Magazine offered to do stories on all of us… you know, me and your father, Tom and his wife… and you kids…"

"That's fine… I just don't exactly love the idea of the title, 'America's Royal Couple' being thrown around." I took a bite of hash brown.

They gave each other yet another look before switching the subject.

"Tonight I expect all of you to all be on your best behavior." Dad cleared his throat after gulping down his juice. I rolled my eyes. When are we ever _not?_ And I'm pretty sure he read my mind because he added, "Never mind."

Around four o' clock everyone started to get ready. Mom had her stylist do my hair and makeup, too. She pinned mine half-up and curled it just the way I like. I was surprised at how long my brown hair had gotten. It was down to my chest even with curls.

She dotted my hair with rhinestone pins to emphasize the ones already on the dress and then did my makeup perfectly. I mean, _perfectly._ I looked like a goddess by the time I slipped the blue dress on and stood before the mirror.

I grabbed my clutch with my cell, lip gloss and hotel card in it and walked out of the room with my brand new heels (also courtesy of Sherri Hill) on. I heard someone whistle and thought it was one of the boys. So, I raised my eyes, mid-roll—and didn't see Adam. Or Derek. Or Dave.

The Buchanans were standing near my doorway… staring—along with my own family—straight at me.

"Oh! Don't you look beautiful!" Kendra exclaimed. My eyes widened and I stopped in the middle of the sitting room.

"Uh…" I looked to my Dad.

He shrugged and simply said, "They wanted to carpool with us."

My shoulders slumped and the frown returned to my face. As I walked towards them they piled out of the suite. Upon entering the hallway I felt a hand touch the small of my back.

I lifted my eyes to the right and saw the expected: Oliver. He was grinning that cocky grin. His dark brown hair was that good-kind-of-messy, as always. His blue eyes lit with mischief. After seeing that look on his face so many times before it's easy to tell when he's going to try something with me.

As we squished into the elevator (the secret service also fighting their way in—I'm pretty sure we reached the weight limit) he got even closer to me.

But he was silent. He never says anything around my parents. My brothers are another story. But anyways, we got in the limo and arrived at the mansion were the ball was being held. We were the guests of honor (the governor was hosting it).

The blinding flashes of paparazzi cameras were apparent even from behind the tinted windows. And as we got out of the limo it only got worse. Oliver and I were the last ones to climb out. Our parents had already started to shake hands, walking up the stairs leading into massive mansion. The boys were busy signing screaming girls' t-shirts and pieces of paper and taking pictures with them.

Oliver offered me his arm. So, as a politician's daughter, I knew I had to take it. I did and we started to climb the stairs. Flashes went off like crazy. People were shouting at us, asking if we were dating. You know the usual.

"Oliver! Jamie!" They all screamed. I was happy when we got to the top of the stairs and finally saw the chandelier and ball room come into view. We stood behind my parents as everything went silent. And we were announced.

"And now give a warm welcome to your twenty-twelve election democratic candidates: Mr. Thomas Buchanan and Mr. Gino Carey! Along with their wives, the lovely soon-to-be-first-ladies, Mrs. Kendra Buchanan and Mrs. Theresa Carey!" There was a pause for applause before the announcer added. "And let's not forget the wonderful soon-to-be-first children! Liam and Oliver Buchanan, Adam Carey, Derek Carey, David Carey, and the ever so beautiful Jamie Carey!"

With the final roar of applause and whistling we made our way down the stairs. People shook hands with my (and Oliver's) Dad as we worked our way towards our table at the front of the enormous ball room. Oliver's smile couldn't have been brighter as people did the usual cooing directed towards us.

We sat down at the table. Politicians gave their speeches. Oliver and I and the boys whispered through all of them.

"_That_," Oliver said, placing a hand on my thigh covered by blue fabric, "Is definitely your color." He was speaking so close to my ear I almost shivered from his breath on my skin.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and slap him on the chest. I simply smiled. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"I heard we're doing that photo shoot on the beach in Maine." He grinned and squeezed my thigh. I almost jumped. Let's just say I'm very ticklish. He knows that. And that's a bad thing. He uses it against me all the time.

"Oh wonderful," I muttered sarcastically. "I get to be in skimpy beach clothes around _you_."

He chuckled, "I doubt they'll let America's sweetheart show her stomach on a national magazine cover."

"Huh?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrow. "Who said anything about a cover shot?"

"My dad did," he stated simply.

"Oh really?"

He nodded.

"I beg to differ," I hissed back.

"Easy there, killer," he laughed.

Our dads wrapped up their speeches and everyone headed out onto the dance floor. Oliver's iron grip caught me in a death trap once again. He practically dragged me onto the floor. I placed my hand in his and the other on his shoulder like a true ballroom dancer. Well, I do take dance classes, so it would make sense…

"Are you going back to Mercy Hall for your last year?" He asked as we spun and stepped gracefully around other couples on the dance floor.

I nodded, "My last year… I can't believe it…"

"I can't believe I'm going into college… let alone Yale," he laughed slightly. And for a moment—just one little moment—his expression dimmed. He actually seemed nervous to start school for a second there. But how could someone like him—the son of a politician, an official A&F Model, an A-List star—be nervous about… school?

I let it go and decided not to be a pest. We danced a few songs before sitting down for the second round of food they were serving. He stopped his brother from drinking _any_ amount of wine. God forbid the media sees Li drinking wine. How scandalous (even though he's twenty-one).

By midnight I was almost passing out in my seat. Oliver snapped me awake a few dozen times.

"Not really a night owl are you, Jamie?" He helped me up as we began to leave. I gave him a look.

"I am… just not when it comes to galas and balls." I lowered my voice, "They're worse than ballroom dance class."

With a chuckle and a smile he led me out to the limo. We all piled in. I couldn't help but nod off on the ride back to the hotel. My head ended up on Oliver's broad shoulder. I had a feeling my parents—and his—were staring the entire time… and he must have been smiling from ear to ear.

"Come on, James," he whispered. We trekked back into our rooms. We'd spent most of the day packing. So, all I had to do was grab my luggage. Well, my agents did. I didn't even bother changing yet. No one did. We simply walked out in our gowns and tuxedos.

Thank god the airport was private. No one would see us, which meant no one would scream or try to charge us with pens and papers.

Once on the plane I took about an hour nap on Oliver's shoulder again. He liked that. (And he also smelled really good—like I said, A&F model). Just the scent coming off of him was… relaxing. Maybe that's how A&F models get all the pretty girls…

I laughed to myself at that thought. I think I smiled in my sleep a few times.

He didn't look too good as we arrived in Augusta. I had at least gotten some sleep. He and his brother looked like they were trying to hold up until they saw comfy beds.

The ride to the hotel was much speedier than normal and I was in my suite—that I, unfortunately, have to share with my brothers—in no time at all.

I took all the pins out of my hair, took off my makeup and dress and heels, and ripped off the jewelry. As soon as I took out my contacts and changed into a pair of Soffee shorts and one of Adam's Yale shirts (did I mention my brother goes to Yale, too?) there was a knock at the door. I sighed and ran a hand through my full, still glossy hair, and walked out to see who it could possibly be.

If I wasn't awake before I was now.

Liam and Oliver were standing the doorway, with their agents—luggage in tow—behind them. I let out a little screech.

"_What_ are you doing here?" I asked Oliver in particular.

The agents set their stuff inside the doorway and left, slamming the door behind them. I was left to stand in the doorway of my bedroom with my jaw almost to the ground. I placed a hand on my hip.

The boys walked out of their room. They were awake enough to say their 'hey' and 'hi bro's. I rolled my eyes and said, "You don't think you're rooming here, do you?"

Oliver smiled through tiredness. "Unfortunately, we have no choice. The room they were planning on putting us in is under renovation… and our parents' suite only has one couch… and these good looking bodies aren't sleeping on the floor. So, who wants to share with me?" He raised an eyebrow pointedly with me and held out his arms.

I let out a huff; a noise of frustration, before storming back into my room and put on my glasses—due to the fact that Oliver was barely detailed enough for me to recognize him—and walked back out. If I was going to fight, I had to be able to see the person I was fighting against.

He whistled, "Woah. I don't remember those," Oliver commented. I narrowed my eyes at him and he held his hands up. "Hey, they look nice. Only you could pull off the whole 'sexy nerd' look." He winked. I scoffed.

"Well, Liam's sharing a bed with me and the twins are sharing… so…" I heard Adam's voice call out nervously. He was afraid of my reaction.

He should have been.

"Ohhh no, no, no, no, no. There is _no way in HELL_ I am sleeping with _him_," I hissed. Then I regretted my choice of words.

I slapped a hand to my face as Derek said, "Woah, hold up there, sis—."

"Shut up!" I growled.

"You can trust me, Jame, I won't do anything. I just hate sleeping on couches," he said with a tired yawn.

I raised an eyebrow humorously. "Aw, the little model doesn't want to hurt his muscles…"

"That's right," he said, surprisingly.

I sighed loudly, giving in. I'm such a nice person, really. "I'm such a nice person. It's sickening," I stated. "Fine," I huffed and he followed me back into my room.

"Now easy there you two, these walls aren't that thick. We'll hear—."

"Shut up, Dave!" I shouted angrily. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

He dumped his stuff in one corner as I slid into bed. He didn't even bother flicking the lights on and changed into sweatpants—and no shirt—in the dark. In seconds I felt the soft fabric rubbing against my legs. His chest was pressed against my back. His arms slipped around my waist and I sighed, wiggling away.

"Oh no you don't," he mumbled, pulling me back.

I let out a noise of frustration. "Get your hands off me," I growled sleepily—not to mention crankily.

"Calm yourself, Jamie," he laughed tiredly. His arms stayed firmly locked against my waist. There was no way I was getting out of this.

So I just let my eyelids slam down like iron curtains and allowed my body to rest. It was weird, having someone sleeping that close to me. I could hear the rhythm of his breathing. I found myself almost breathing in time with him. And every once in a while his arms would tense and hold me closer. I heard his breathing get heavier. He nuzzled into my neck. His breath on my neck made me shiver. Goose bumps surfaced.

I shut out the fact that he was in the same bed as me and managed to drift asleep, hoping that my dad wouldn't find us in the morning… that would be awkward…


End file.
